Peeta Mellark Ruined My Life
by Geeky-DMHG-Fan
Summary: Madge/Gale. Set about three to four years after Catching Fire. In District 13 Above. Told from Gale's POV. Mild Katniss/Peeta and Rory/Prim.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So here's my take on the whole Madge/Gale relationship. I thought it high time Gale learned to be a bit more romantic, and that's how this story was inspired. It's kind of meant as one big inside joke for Medea Smyke, so if Gale seems a bit too petulant and whiny, that might explain it. It's not set in the same universe as her stories, but in a universe that is might close to it. Her universe is better, so check it out!

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Peeta Mellark Ruined My Life **

or

**Strawberry Fields For-never**

**Chapter One**

* * *

I watch Madge hug Katniss and Peeta as I rock back on my heels and dig my hands into my pockets. It's early spring and the sun's already gone down, so there's some bite to the air. It's refreshing after being cooped up in the Mellark abode for the past two hours.

"Thanks for having us over. We'll return the favor as soon as we get more settled into the new house," Madge says.

"Sounds like a plan," Peeta says as he wraps his arm around Katniss's shoulder. He's always so touchy-feely with her, and while Katniss never struck me as that type, it doesn't seem to bother her. Takes all kinds, I guess.

"See you soon," Katniss says.

As fascinating as watching my breath condense in the cold spring air is, I probably should contribute to this conversation. "Bye." There. Time to go.

The girls share one of their long-suffering smiles before the door is closed, and Madge and I make our way home. It's about a two mile trek through a forest that's barely held back to accommodate this main thoroughfare. If you can call it that. More like a dirt path. Still, I like it. Not many people have settled here yet, and there's plenty of wide open space. It's a welcome change, especially after living in a one room house with my family and then the underground bunkers of District 13. I have all the room in the world to just…be.

We're a few yards out when Madge accidentally bumps into me. "It's cold," she says.

A few weeks ago, maybe. But the snow's already melted. This? Downright balmy if you ask me. "Just rub your hands together. You'll feel better in no time."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Madge using her hands to vigorously rub her arms. "Thanks."

"So, tonight was…fun." Madge is good at reading my sarcasm, but if she missed it, the snort I'm barely able to contain should clue her in.

She's stopped rubbing her arms and is now shaking her head. "To hear you talk about it, you'd think you'd undergone torture. We had a nice dinner, and you got to relax a little and catch up with Katniss."

"And Peeta."

"I like Peeta. What's wrong with Peeta?

There's nothing wrong with Peeta, and that's the problem. It'd be so much easier to get along with him if there was something about him to dislike. And, of course, with his missing leg and all that time spent being tortured by the Capitol, it makes me look like a jerk for feeling this way.

There is no way I'm going to win this, so I grumble back, "Nothing. Peeta's perfect."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

I stop in my tracks. "Jealous of Mellark? No way."

"Well, he did end up with Katniss."

Is she joking? Yeah, I liked Katniss, maybe even loved her in my own immature eighteen-year old way. But that was years ago. I have Madge now, and there is no confusion about whether or not I love her.

She hooks her hand into the crux of my elbow and starts tugging me along. "I was just kidding. I never would have married you if I thought you weren't over her."

"Lucky thing I came to my senses, huh?"

"Got that right, but I had other options lined up just in case," she says. From the quirk of her mouth, I can tell she's trying to tease me. I don't like this joke. "Ha, ha, very funny, Mrs. Hawthorne."

I scowl down at her, but she's oblivious as she chews on her lower lip. "Well, really it was more like one option."

That's news to me. "I thought I was your first boyfriend."

"You were."

"Then how was there another option besides me?"

"I worked in a restaurant. Sometimes I'd get asked out. It wasn't a big deal."

Is she nuts? "He could have been a psychopath."

Madge rolls her eyes. "Hardly. They were all very nice guys."

The hell? When did it switch to the plural? "Guys?"

Madge looks away guiltily. As she should. Clearing her throat, she says, "There were a few, but I only went on multiple dates with one."

"Who?" I demand. There's a fluttering above my head, and I look up to see some birds taking flight from the nearest tree.

Madge blinks, then laughs, and the sound goes out over the empty space, filling it.

"Quintus McFarlane."

"The freak with the green hair?"

"And the lip ring," she says with a sigh.

"You didn't kiss him or anything, did you?"

She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, but that's answer enough. I feel like someone's kicked me in the gut. "Madge?"

"I don't see what the big deal is. It was like one kiss. Four at the most."

"Four?!"

At least she has the decency to blush, though for all I know, it could be because of the chill that seems to have settled in my lungs and made it impossible to breathe.

"What does it matter, Gale? It's not like I was your first kiss either."

True, but I had known Katniss for four years before I kissed her, and all I got was one kiss. Madge knew that…_thing_ for four _months_. Twelve at most, since I asked her on a date after we'd been down in District 13 for about a year. In any case, my time-to-kiss ratio is much higher than hers ever was.

I must be walking faster, because Madge is tugging on my arm, trying to slow me down.

"Gale?"

"What?"

"Don't be mad."

"I'm _not_ mad."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

I glance over to the side, see her big, blue eyes watching me. "If it makes you feel better, you have no reason to be jealous of Quintus."

Hmph. I'll be the judge of that. "Why not?"

Madge gets on her tiptoes, and since she's still a bit too short, I lean down to rest of the way so I can hear her whisper, "You're a much better kisser."

While I still don't like the idea of my wife's tongue in that sieve of a mouth, clearly no lasting damage was done. She's happily married to me, after all. And there's no way Madge could ever have settled down with Metal Mouth. She's way too good for him.

Madge is looking up at me now, her lips slightly parted in a smile. If that's not an invitation, I don't know what is. Leaning down, I cover her mouth with mine. Probably a bit too roughly if her tiny squeak is an indication, but she gets over it quickly. Her hands go straight to my hair, pulling me down so much I feel like I'm bent at the waist even though that would be impossible. I'll add this to my list of benefits of living in Thirteen Above. Madge would never have planted one on me like this in public back in the bunkers. Here, there's no one around, so public pretty much is private.

Eventually, her hands move to my face, and the shock of the cold makes me pull back. "Your hands are freezing."

Little puffs of air escape our mouths, intermingling in the few inches between our faces. "Told you I was cold," she says.

Guess it's my job to warm her up. Pretty soon I have her backed up against a tree, though I'm careful not to press too hard. The roughness would probably scratch her through her clothes, and she's got sensitive skin. Eventually I give up and swap places with her. My back's so messed up anyway, this won't make any difference. But bark digging into my skin isn't really my primary focus. Eradicating the Capitol tool and his lip ring from Madge's memory, though, is. But even that goal gets fuzzy after a while. In contrast, everything about Madge becomes sharper. The faint smell of verbena that clings to her skin, her fingers playing songs down the lengths of my arms, the sounds she makes when I thread my fingers through her hair, even the way she tastes.

When she pulls back, I almost groan, though I knew this would happen. Madge stumbles forward into my chest, gasping. I can feel the warmth of her breath through the fabric of my sweater. "We still have a mile before we're home."

"Mmm hmm."

I'm already leaning down again, but she puts a hand up between our faces. "Gale, it's _really _cold." She pulls up one of her sleeves. "See, I have goose bumps."

I gave those to her, not the cold. But I don't point this out. As I breathe in more oxygen, it occurs to me that the more I argue, the longer it will take to get home. If I thought Madge would let me, I'd run with her in my arms the entire way home.

I start walking toward our cabin, but she makes me stop so she can straighten her sweater. When she starts in on mine, I groan. "There's no one out here. It doesn't matter what we look like." She ignores me and wastes even more time by fixing my hair.

"There. All better."

"We're just going to mess it up later."

Madge smacks my hands away and we begin what I know will be the longest mile walk I will ever take in my life. "Now, what were we talking about again?" she asks.

"How I'm the best kisser in the world."

"Right. About Quintus, I just want you to know that he really wasn't my type."

The anger's gone, but it's been replaced with curiosity. "Then why'd you date him?"

"Well, you were in love with Katniss. I knew the thing with Quintus wasn't really going to go anywhere—"

I snort. "How could it?"

She ignores me. "I just wanted something to distract me from all the stuff that had happened back home, and while I wouldn't want to settle down with Quintus, he is a nice guy."

Those first few months in 13 are ones I'd rather forget. And I had all my family there with me. I'd hate to think what it was like for Madge. "I forgive you," I say, somehow managing a smile. But it goes completely unnoticed, because she's chewing on her lip again.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Promise not to get mad."

That conversation opener never foretells good things. "Madge…"

"I kind of forgot that there was someone else."

"Great. Another Capitol clown?"

"Actually, he was from the Seam."

For some reason, that makes it worse. "Who?"

Madge tries to take my hand, but I'm not having it. "It never got to be anything serious, just a few dates," she says, slightly flustered. Good.

I keep walking in silence, and Madge chases after me, throwing up her hands when she's caught up. "Gale, you don't need to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"Now, you're lying."

Alright, maybe I am jealous, but who wouldn't be in my position?

"Did you kiss him too?" I ask.

"Yes."

I'd punch a tree, but don't want to break my hand. I learned that lesson the hard way.

"Tell me who it is," I say.

Madge ducks her head, as if hiding behind her hair will make this any better. "Cole Phillips," she says quietly.

The name is vaguely familiar. What's also becoming familiar? Red hot hatred for every man Madge has kissed that isn't me. I can barely speak, but somehow manage to say, "And why'd you stop dating him? Moved on to some other guy?"

"You could say that."

Hell's teeth. Is there anyone she hasn't dated?

Madge smacks me lightly on the arm. "It was you, silly. You asked me out on a date, and that was why I ended things with Cole."

That should be comforting but it's not. "And if I hadn't asked you out?"

Madge shrugs. "But you did."

"_And if I hadn't?"_

Madge expels a big huff, disturbing the yellow strands of hair around her face. "I don't know."

"Did you like him?"

She's chewing her bottom lip again. "He was alright," she mumbles.

My left eyebrow starts crawling up my forehead. "Just alright?"

"I think I liked spending time with him because he reminded me of home. It was nice having someone to talk to."

"If it was just that, why is this the first I ever heard of him?"

"He got upset with me after I told him I wanted to see someone else. And then I was too busy being with you to really think about him. Sometimes I feel kind of bad for hurting him, though."

My jaw starts to hurt, and I have to force myself to unclench it.

"I don't mean that I regret my decision," she blurts out. "It's just…he was such a good guy, I wish I didn't have to disappoint him."

"I don't."

"Neither do I, really. But there were so few people who made it out of Twelve, and he really was a great guy. Honestly, he is a lot like you. That's probably why I was so attracted to him in the first place."

Flattery does not work with me. "You are not helping your case."

"I chose you, didn't I?"

"You said he was a great guy. How great?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. Then she says, "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this anymore."

"Cat's already out of the bag," I say through gritted teeth.

"Gale, obviously he's really not important if I forgot about him until now."

"I can handle it."

"Fine, but you don't get to be angry about this."

"Fine." I ball the hand that isn't holding Madge's into a fist, preparing myself for the worst.

"He'd drop by unexpectedly at work with my favorite candy or flowers. Things like that." Madge pauses, then continues, "One time, he even found me piano music. Of course, without a piano it didn't do me much good, but it was a really thoughtful gesture…I hope he managed to find someone else."

Sounds like a stalker and a schmuck. And piano music for a non-existent piano? What a complete waste of money. Glad I had nothing to worry about. The weight from my chest is immediately lifted. "Surprised he didn't write you a little love poem like Lover Boy did for Katniss."

Madge looks over, her eyes scolding. "You know you weren't supposed to see that."

"Kind of hard not to when it's left out in the kitchen."

Madge lets go of my hand. "And you didn't have to call attention to it either by reading it out loud."

Yes, I did, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. The sheepish look on Mellark's face was priceless. Just thinking about it again makes me laugh. "Oh, come on, Madge. He's so incredibly whipped over her, it's ridiculous. Admit it, it was funny."

But Madge doesn't admit it. All she does is frown and point out, "Katniss didn't think so."

"Can you blame her? I'd be embarrassed if Mellark wrote something like that for me too."

"I think it was sweet."

"So sweet I got a toothache."

"And Katniss wasn't embarrassed because he wrote it. Just that you saw something that was meant to be private and then teased them both about it." Madge follows this up by poking me in the chest. Perhaps she's trying to bully me into behaving, but it's about as effective as a pup yipping at my heels. It's more cute than intimidating, and I'm tempted to pat her on the head. I know it's wrong, but I like making her angry. Her cheeks flush, her eyes flash, and she purses her lips. It's hot, and doesn't really give me an incentive to make peace with her.

I try to find the perfect amount of condescension when I let her know, "Katniss and I were best friends for years, so believe me when I say she isn't the type of girl to like that kind of thing. Mellark would have been better off giving her a set of arrows. Even a dead squirrel would be more useful than that flowery ditty about her hair and eyes."

Madge doesn't look convinced. "You might have been best friends with her, but I'm a girl."

"So."

"So?!" She takes a second to breathe in deeply, and when she starts speaking again, it's really slow, like she's talking to a small child. "This may come as a surprise to you, but every once in a while a girl likes to be romanced, to feel appreciated. And Katniss is _my_ best friend now, so you can believe me when I tell you that she likes that kind of thing."

"Do you honestly believe that if Mellark came to our place and found a poem like that, he wouldn't tease us about it?"

"I really couldn't say."

"You know he would."

"Does it really matter? It's not like Peeta would find anything in the first place, since you've never done anything like that for me."

"And don't expect me to either," I say, still laughing at how Peeta compared Katniss's eyes to a pre-dawn mist he loved being lost in.

"I won't. Trust me."

Something about the way Madge said that seems a bit off. I look over at her to find her with her arms folded across her chest. Maybe I went a bit far, but she can't really be upset with me for making fun of Mellark, can she? I mean, he and I will never be best friends, but I do li—tolerate him. I just tolerate making fun of him more.

Whatever it is, I'll make it up to her very soon. Right now, in fact.

We're at the door of our home, and I open it, ushering her inside and towards the bedroom. Kicking off my boots and changing into my pajamas, I wait while Madge gets ready for bed. She's taking forever.

As soon as she's on the mattress, I reach over for her, but she's reaching for the lights, and then we're shrouded in darkness.

Well, I suppose having the lights off won't affect things too much.

I stare at her back for a second, then tug gently on one of the curls lying against her neck. "Madge?"

She flips over on her other side so I can see her face. "Yeah?"

I bring my fingers up to her face, running my thumb along her cheek. Her eyes drift shut, though they briefly flicker open when my hand drops to her collarbone. I knew she couldn't stay angry with me for long.

My lips are twisted into a smirk, but it quickly turns into a frown at the next words that come out of her mouth. "Not tonight, Gale. I'm tired."

She leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, then settles down in her usual spot, head resting on my shoulder, feet tucked under my legs. "G'night."

What just happened here?!

Just like under the tree, all my senses are full of her. Even with her in my arms, I want her closer. For a few minutes, I stare up at the ceiling as I calm down. It takes a while, but once I've finally accepted that nothing is going to happen tonight, I try to make sense of things. The first and most obvious feeling is one of frustration. Great and terrible frustration. Then the confusion sets in. She certainly didn't seem tired under the tree, and no more than thirty minutes has passed since then. And she's never been too tired before. I've even woken her up before to…you know, and she happily obliged every time.

Why wouldn't she want to be with me? I cup my hand over my mouth and exhale. No, my breath is fine. Showered today, followed my same hygiene habits. There isn't anything different about me. At least physically.

Did I do something wrong? I go over everything that happened after she had me pushed up against the tree. She was fine during the discussion of the green-haired pin cushion. When we talked about Cole the Schmuck she seemed more upset with herself than anything. I do remember her getting angry when we talked about Peeta's ode to Katniss. But that only seemed like annoyance. It wasn't until I told her not to expect anything like that from me that she turned to ice.

That's…interesting. Does she want me to do something like that? I never took Madge for the sappy type. But what was that she said earlier? _Every once in a while a girl likes to be romanced, to be appreciated. _

Well, I hate to break it to her, but I'm no poet. Any thoughts I have about her that sound even remotely flowery I keep to myself. I'm a lumberjack, not a decorator of cakes and cookies. I wasn't cut out for that kind of thing.

Madge buries herself deeper into my side, and I look down at her. Some moonlight shines through the window, causing her hair to sparkle like a waterfall of sunshine and daffodils. I shake my head, cringing. Definitely _not_ a poet.

I guess I'm just not that great at expressing what I'm feeling. After all, what is the point of it? Talking about your feelings doesn't put dinner on the table or protect you from having your name drawn at the reaping. But I'm not battling starvation or the threat of the Games anymore. There's plenty of food here, and my family is safe in their cabin on the other side of the settlement. Well, my mom, brothers and sister are. Madge is here, with me.

Thinking back, I did talk about my feelings some. Certainly griped enough to Katniss about my hate for the Capitol. But I've come to see that I treated Katniss more like a hunter, a comrade. Which is not at all how I treat Madge. Madge is different. She's my wife, not a fellow soldier in arms.

Huh? Maybe it's that same way with Mellark. To him, Katniss is more than a soldier, and who knows how Katniss views him? He's certainly not a hunter, but that doesn't seem to bother her any. I guess he fills some other kind of role in her life, which might explain why she likes the love poems. And why Madge might want some poems from me?

And since I don't give her poems, does that mean she doesn't think I appreciate her? The thought makes my stomach twist with guilt. I love her more than anything or any person, and if that isn't clear to her…Well, I'll make it clear. I'm not going to have her regret choosing me over Quintus McFarlane and Cole Phillips.

Only problem is, like I told Madge, I don't do poetry. And certainly not if Mellark's done it first. I can do better than that. Just got to find a way of expressing what I feel for her in my own manly way.

There's a slight tickling on my chest as Madge bunches her hand in the cotton of my shirt. The room is so quiet, I can hear her murmur my name in her sleep.

I place a kiss on Madge's forehead and close my eyes. I'll come up with an idea to show her how much I care, and you better believe it will blow anything Quintus McFarlane, Cole Phillips, and Peeta Mellark ever did to bits.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter...Quintus McFarlane is a character made up in Medea Smyke's Great Escape. In my mind, he is a total hottie, who is possibly the long lost twin of Finnick Odair. Cole Phillips is a character I created to torment Gale and by extension, Medea.

It's kind of unbeta'd, since I'm feeling lazy, but if you want to point out typos and redundancies to me, I'm up for it. Hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

**Peter Mellark Ruined My Life**

**or**

**Strawberry Fields For-never**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

It's been three days, and I've got nothing.

Everything I know is related to hunting, mining, and cutting down trees. Being romantic isn't exactly a skill I've needed to get by in life. I can't even ask my coworkers about this kind of thing. I'm the only one that's married, and most of them think I'm crazy for settling down so young. But while they make fun of me for having a ball and chain, I come home to Madge every night. So really, the joke's on them.

Still, I'm discovering that it's not enough to know how lucky you are. You have to be able to show it, and for some reason, I can't. It's gotten to the point where I'm considering copying Peeta's and Cole's ideas. Pathetic.

After work on the fourth day, I decide to seek help. Making my way across the settlement, I stop at one of the cabins and knock. Footsteps approach and the door opens, revealing my mom.

Her eyebrows slowly rise and she purses her mouth. Wiping her hands on her apron, she asks, "Is something wrong?"

Am I that transparent? "No. Why would you think that?"

"It's not Sunday at dinnertime," my mom says, a smile finally appearing on her face. a guilt trip, subtly applied as only my mom knows how to do. I pull at my collar, because it's starting to chafe my skin. It's

It's not that I don't want to spend more time with them than our usual family dinner on Sunday, but I just got married to Madge two months ago. And if I had to choose between us spending time with them or spending time alone…Well, that's a no brainer. It's part of the reason why we just moved to the other side of the settlement. I love my siblings, but I wasn't a fan of how they kept dropping by unannounced all the time.

Before I can reply, my mom shoos me into the house and sits me down at the kitchen table. "Where's Madge?"

"At home."

"Is she alright?"

Except for the part that she thinks she's married to the most insensitive man in the world, "Yeah."

"So, why are you here?"

"Can't I just visit you because you're my mom?"

"Gale, the kids will be home soon. If you need to talk about something, you best stop beating around the bush."

I suppose it was foolish to think I could put one over my mom. Giving up, I pull at my hair. How do I say this? I'm not good at being anything other than straight and to the point, but this is one of those topics that's best handled delicately.

Taking a deep breath I blurt out, "How did you and dad make your marriage work?"

My mom instantly pales, and her eyes shoot to my face. "Is something wrong between you and Madge? What did you do?"

"Mom, things are fine between us. And why do you assume it would be my fault if something were wrong?"

"Because, it would be."

"You're _my_ mother. You should side with _me_."

"That's not how it works. You are my son, and you should agree with my conclusions."

Can I still claim to be a man and yet be reduced to a whiny, sniveling mess by my mom in under three minutes? I'm not sure, so I bite my tongue.

"Madge is special. Don't do anything stupid to drive her away."

"I know she's special. I just don't know how to show her how special she is."

My mom sighs and visibly relaxes. "I take it you want to know what your father did for me to show his appreciation?"

I'm digging my toe into the table leg, and I push a little too hard because the whole table shifts a couple of inches across the floor. "Yeah…I guess."

My mom is silent for a while, so silent it catches my attention. She's leaning back in her chair, looking lost in thought. When she finally speaks, it's slow, as if it's hard for her to remember my dad doing nice things for her or because she's reliving what it used to be like. From the small smile on her face, I think it's the latter. "Well, he would take you boys out of the house when you were driving me nuts…"

Madge and I don't have kids, so that doesn't really work. And for the record, we were not that bad.

"…he'd help with chores around the house too…"

My nose wrinkles automatically, but luckily my mom doesn't see it. Besides, Madge doesn't have much to do while I'm at work. If I did her chores, she'd probably die of boredom.

"…or he'd rub my feet and shoulders when I was tired…"

Sounds promising.

"…sometimes he would sing for me…"

Not going to happen. I'm tone deaf, and Madge is a musician. If I sang for her, she'd probably think I was punishing her.

"…I remember a few times, he'd bring back my favorite flowers…"

Cole already did that, and…well, I don't know what Madge's favorite flower is. Hell's teeth, I'm a horrible husband.

My mom seems to be out of suggestions, but then she shakes her head, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Of course, there's always the tried and true method?"

I lean forward, hoping this last option will be my salvation. Trying not to be too eager, I ask, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Well, your father and I had four kids together."

Eugh. I'm glad my parents liked each other, but it's not really something I want to think about. I try not to squirm in my seat. "I think I got that covered," I grumble, feeling warm again.

"Just making sure."

When she's finished laughing at me, she says, "Honestly, Gale, it really doesn't take much. Find out the things she's interested in or that make her happy, and show that you are paying attention to her."

Yeah, right. That is way too simple, but it's pointless to argue with the woman who gave me life and changed my diapers. Standing from my chair, I say, "I should head back. I didn't tell Madge I was coming here after work, and I don't want her to worry."

My mom stands up too and walks over to hug me. "I'll see you both this Sunday. And let me know how this goes."

Yeah, I'll get right on that.

I take my time heading home. It's nice outside, and I'm in no rush to return without some plan. Well, my mom did say to just watch and pay attention. I can do that at least. It's not much, but it's a start.

As soon as I walk in, I kick off my boots and look around. Things look different. "Madge, you here?" I call out.

No answer. Making my way to our bedroom, I hear the spray of the shower. "I'm home."

"You just missed Katniss and Peeta by twenty minutes," she says.

Goodie. "Why were they here?"

"They offered to help with the unpacking, so we did that for a few hours. I got all sweaty, so I decided to take a shower. Should be done in about fifteen minutes."

Come to think of it, I could use a shower myself. I'm already tugging my shirt from my waistband when something stops me. This would be the opportune time to go through Madge's things, find out what she likes. Of course, this would be the opportune time for other, more exciting things. Stupid Mellark! I never had these crises of conscience until he ruined my life with his romantic antics. Gritting my teeth, I turn away from the bathroom and head towards the walk-in closet on the other side of the room from my showering wife.

Most of my clothes are in a dresser in our bedroom, so I don't spend much time in here. But I know Madge keeps a chest full of odds and ends in the closet, along with who knows what else. It's dark, so I flip on the lights.

The majority of her clothes have been hung up. There's still some unpacked moving boxes, but I easily locate the chest. As quietly as possible, I remove the boxes that are on top of it and open the wooden chest. The first thing I see is her wedding dress. Now _that_ was a fun day. To tell you the truth, I don't remember much about our wedding, it all went by so quickly, but there are a couple things that stick out. I'd known right away, almost as soon as we started dating, that she would be my wife, but due to circumstances with the rebellion, our courtship went longer than I would have liked. Madge in this dress walking down the aisle towards me…She couldn't get to me fast enough. And as much as I like this dress, I was more than happy to see her out of it. Two years is a long time to wait, and I've never been a patient man.

The second thing I remember about that day, though I'd rather not, is Haymitch Abernathy. Madge had no one to give her away, and apparently, they have some family connection from away back so I got to see his ugly mug coming at me. Someone forgot to tell him it was a wedding, because he was glaring at me the entire time. Or maybe it was because the Capitol lady he's been dating wouldn't let him have any alcohol. Take your pick.

Underneath the dress are four boxes. The first one I open contains other wedding-related items. Madge's veil, duplicates of our wedding photos (the rest she keeps in an album in the living room), flowers pressed from her bouquet, letters—one from Haymitch and one that's addressed to me in Madge's handwriting. I've never seen either of these letters. I open the one with my name on it and start scanning it. "I've loved you since I was twelve years old, Gale Hawthorne." There's other things she writes about me that make my throat tighten up. I put it away, because if I keep reading it, I'll never get through this before her shower is over. Just have to come back later.

Three boxes left. The first contains items about her parents. Things she's written to them and about them. I don't have the time to read closely, nor do I want to. It isn't really any of my business. At least the letter I had been reading was addressed to me. Now, onto box two. It's full of sheet music. I thumb through it, reading the titles of the pieces. I'm just about to put the box back when I see some scribbling on one of the sheets. "I know this is your favorite song. Hopefully you can play it for me one day. Cole." Well, at least I know her favorite song now. Thanks, Cole. I'm tempted to rip it in half. Not because I think she's keeping it because she's holding onto Cole, but because, let's face it, I'm a jealous bastard. However, I'm not so stupid that I can't see the music is a connection to her District 12 past. There aren't many so it would be really selfish of me to destroy it. Instead, I hide the song in the pocket of one of the jackets I keep in here. After I buy the sheet music myself, _then_ I'll burn the one with Cole's inscription.

One box left. I really had no expectations opening this box, but I would never have predicted what I'm looking at now. Baby clothes. And lots of them. It's like she's been stockpiling them for a small army. Good grief, is Madge pregnant? I fall back from my heels, connecting hard with the wooden floor. No, she can't be pregnant. She would have told me. Right?

The shower turns off, so I quickly scramble to put everything back in the chest just as it was before. As soon as everything is back in place, I drop to my hands and knees, pretending to search for something.

Madge pads over on her bare feet, and I look over my shoulder. She's in a towel. Hopefully she's just coming to get some clothes and doesn't suspect anything.

Her lips are quirked in a smile. "What are you doing in here?" she asks, nudging me with her foot.

"I dropped something, and it rolled in here." I go back to crawling about, trying to find the invisible object.

"Oh, ok."

The door closes behind me and suddenly it goes pitch black. Another of her little jokes. She's probably outside the closet, laughing.

"Madge, turn the lights back on. I can't see," I say loudly enough so she can hear me through the closet door. There's a tiny giggle, and I realize she's in her with me. I scramble up from my knees, hitting my head on a shelf. Cursing, I fumble for the light switch.

"Madge, this isn't funny—" With the lights back on, I can see the towel pooling around Madge's feet. Which means…I look up, confirming my suspicions.

I have the best wife in the entire world.

Madge laughs. "Oh really?"

Crap. That last part wasn't meant to be said out loud.

"You're very easily pleased, aren't you?" she asks, hands on her hips.

I don't normally take well to teasing, but when it's done by my naked wife, I don't mind so much. And it's not like I can do anymore searching. She's here, it would be obvious. The only choice left is compliance. Heh.

"Not so sure about that, but I'm willing to find out."

I advance, but she holds a hand up. "Wait. I need you to do something…"

"Now?" I whine.

"After."

"Alright, sure, whatever, anything," I say, as I trap her into a corner. With my mouth against her throat, I can feel her swallow.

"There's a picture I want you to hang…I think…I think it would look best in the hallway leading to the dining room," she says, but with some difficultly.

"Kitchen. Got it." Her hair is still wet, leaving droplets across her neck and collarbone. I brush them away. With my tongue.

"Gale, are you even…listening?"

No. But I think we've both reached the point of not caring about the picture. And I'll leave it at that.

Sometime later, my fingers brush against Madge's stomach, and I remember something. "Are you pregnant?"

Madge giggles. "After that, who knows? But as far as I know, no, I'm not pregnant. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I say, as I continue stroking her stomach and kissing her.

Suddenly Madge pushes me away. "Did you hear that?" she gasps.

"No," and then I'm back to kissing her.

Well, I try to kiss her, but she shoves me off of her and scrambles to her feet. "It's the doorbell. I need to get it."

"No you don't."

Madge looks for her towel, which is next to me. Before she can get it, I pick it up and fling it to the other end of the closet. I reach for her ankle, but she kicks my hand, grabs some things from the closet and runs out of it, slamming the door behind her.

Well, I'm not leaving. It's probably a neighbor asking for some sugar or something, and then she'll be right back and we can continue where we left off. A few minutes pass by and I learn that the closet floor isn't the most comfortable place to sit. Time to hurry the neighbor along. Cracking open the closet door, I call out, "Madge, come here a minute. I have something to show you."

"It'll have to wait till later," she shouts back. "Rory is here."

Dammit!

Pulling my pants on, I exit the closet and grab a shirt from the dresser. As soon as it's buttoned, I make my way to the kitchen.

Rory, the intruder, is sitting there with Madge. He looks up when I enter and stares at me oddly.

"What?!" I say.

"Your shirt's buttoned all funny." Then he looks at Madge, "And why are you wearing one of Gale's shirts?"

Madge stands up, trying to hide her blushes from Rory. She's bashful about these kinds of things, and thanks to my lunkhead brother, now she'll be worried about more unexpected visits, which means less fun time for me. I thought moving to the other side of the settlement would rid me of this problem. Note to self: look into moving to whichever district is farthest from here.

"I'm doing laundry," she says. "Peeta brought some cookies over today. Want some?"

"Yeah!" As Madge predicted, Rory forgets our disheveled appearances at the mention of food. Even Peeta food.

"So, why are you here?" I ask. Apparently I said it rudely, because Madge is glaring at me, but if Rory knew what he had interrupted, he'd understand.

"Actually, I came here to speak with Madge," he says.

Fine by me. I'm hungry, so I rifle through the fridge and make myself a sandwich.

"So, what did you want to speak with me about?" Madge asks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rory glance my way. "Well, there's this girl…"

"'Bout time. I was beginning to worry about you."

"Gale, that's not nice," Madge scolds. "And don't talk with your mouth full."

Being an only child, Madge doesn't recognize brotherly ribbing when she sees it. I shrug and take another bite out of my sandwich. "Who is she?"

Rory goes pale and plays with a pink frosted cookie until it crumbles.

"Spit it out, Casanova."

Tossing the cookie aside, he buries his head in his hands. "It's Prim," he mumbles.

"Can't hear you," I lie.

"It's Prim, alright!"

I let out a low whistle. "Good luck with that. And isn't she older than you?"

Rory sits up tall in his chair. "Yeah, by like eight months. That's not a big deal." He says it like it's a statement, but it sounds like a question to me.

I make a face, pretending it's a bigger deal than it really is.

"Madge, you don't think that's weird, do you?" Rory asks.

"It really depends on the guy. Your brother is two years older than me, and yet I'd never know it from the way he acts--"

Hey!

"—but I think you're a mature, handsome, intelligent young man. You help take care of your family and you're very responsible. And smart girls like Prim appreciate that kind of thing. "

Clearly she hasn't grown up with this one. He's a slob, sleeps in, and is a mouth breather. And while he's smart, he uses his wiles to get Vick and Posy to do all his chores. Rory's preening like a peacock, so I throw a piece of crust at him.

"Do you think she's interested in you?" Madge asks.

"I dunno."

"You practically grew up with her," I point out, "She probably thinks of you like a brother."

"Like Katniss did with you?" Rory shoots off, then instantly reddens. "Sorry, Madge. I…Gale loves you. Lots. I heard my mom says he sparkles when he's around you. "

One look at Madge, and I can tell she isn't hurt by the jab that was meant for me. But I don't care, I'm going to collar that idiot anyway.

Before I get close enough, she stands up from her chair and inserts herself between me and Rory. Lucky dog.

"And when you first started dating, he wouldn't shut up. It was always Madge this, and Madge that," Rory keeps bleating.

"Can it!" I growl.

"It's alright, Rory. I know you were just trying to get back at Gale for teasing you." She turns to me, and puts a hand on my face, "Don't you think it's time to start hanging that picture?"

"Hmm?"

She arches her brows. "The picture you _promised _to hang."

I lean back against the counter, folding my arms across my chest. "I don't remember any such thing. Refresh my memory, when exactly did I make this promise?"

We both know the answer to that question, and I smirk at how Madge's eyes bug out. Maybe next time she'll think twice before she pretends I act like a little boy and sides with my pig-headed brother.

"Oh, was it in the closet right before we—"

"Gale!" she shrieks.

"—swept the floors?"

She glares as she pushes me away from her. "Go. I need to finish speaking with Rory."

I make my way to hallway. It's a short distance, and fortunately I haven't lost audio or visual contact with their little heart-to-heart. And contrary to Madge's belief, I can hurl my special brand of advice from the hallway just as well as from the kitchen.

Looking down, I see something leaning against the wall. It's rectangular shaped and wrapped in brown paper. Must be the picture. On the floor next to it are a hammer and a container of nails.

"Have you seen Prim express interest in anyone?" Madge asks.

I look over to see Rory looking like he's green around the gills. "Finnick Odair."

Madge laughs and pats him gently on the hand. "No need to worry, Rory. Every girl has a crush on him, including me."

"Why am I not surprised?" I grumble under my breath, "Probably dated him too."

"Did you say something, Gale?" Madge asks, glancing over in my direction with a frown on her face.

I shake my head and pretend to pick up the picture.

"Besides," she continues speaking to Rory, "I doubt Finnick has plans to leave his wife and kids any time soon."

Rory smiles weakly. "Yeah, probably not."

"So, what are you going to tell Prim?"

"Nothing."

As expected. Not that I'm complaining about Rory being a chicken. He's much too young to have a girlfriend, and I'm sure Madge would agree with me.

"Why would you do nothing?" Madge says, proving once again that I know nothing about my wife and am a terrible husband. "It's Prim. She's so sweet, she would never laugh at your feelings. The worst thing she could tell you is that she doesn't return them."

Rory shakes his head. "That's sounds pretty awful. Plus it's not just Prim I'd be dealing with. There's Katniss too."

Madge laughs. "Why are you worried about Katniss?"

"Have you seen her with a bow and arrow? She could kill me."

I add my encouragement, "And don't forget Mrs. E. She could poison you with one of her herbs."

Rory stares at me, jaw gaping, breathing so loudly out of his mouth I can hear it from where I stand. "Really?"

Madge sends me an exasperated smile over his shoulder and mouths 'Stop it.'

"Just ignore him, Rory. Katniss and Mrs. E would never do that, unless you were planning something that required them to shoot and poison you. You aren't, are you?"

"No. Of course not." Rory answers too quickly, the tell tale sign of a liar. I know how the teenage boy's mind works. Which is why he should wait till he's twenty to date. Like I did.

"Then you have no reason to be afraid."

"Yes, I do. She's scary. Plus, she's with Peeta."

Ha! Peeta is about as intimidating as a one-legged marshmallow. Madge doesn't seem to get it either. Finally on the same page for once.

"What does Peeta have to do with this?" she asks.

"Katniss is married to Peeta," Rory answers, or thinks he does.

"And?" Madge says.

"I'm not like Peeta."

Madge blinks for a second and a small furrow forms between her brows. "Let me see if I'm understanding this correctly. Katniss is protective of Prim--"

Rory nods his head.

"—and she will shoot anyone who doesn't treat her sister right--"

Still nodding his head.

"—and she thinks that for a boy to treat Prim right, he has to be like Peeta?"

"Yes," Rory says.

Give me a break. So the guy bakes lots of cookies and writes sappy poetry. It's not like he's the standard by which all other guys should be measured. As much as I like yanking my brother's chain, even a goober like Rory doesn't deserve to go on believing this lie.

I'm about to relieve Rory of his ignorance when Madge says, "Peeta is a wonderful guy. You could learn a lot about how to treat a girl from the way he acts with Katniss."

"Yeah, I know." Rory says, sounding miserable. "But how do you top Peeta Mellark? He's like…perfect."

I'm so flabbergasted, I drop my hammer. Barely misses my foot.

Rory and Madge look over at me. "What happened?" Madge asks.

"Almost dropped the hammer on my toe."

"Oh, just as long as the picture doesn't fall," she says before she and Rory go back to their discussion.

Sure, let's just ignore how I almost lost one of my toes. Oh, wait. I forgot. Madge thinks all guys should be like Mellark, so I guess it's time I lost some body parts. A toe might be nothing in comparison to half a leg, but it's a step in the right direction.

"What is this picture of anyway?" I ask, ripping off the protective paper.

"Oh, it's just something Peeta painted for me."

ARGH! That's it! Nothing of his is going to take root here. I'm just about to say that, when I get a glimpse of the painting. Ah, hell. I just cannot catch a break. Little Miss Sunshine has made a portrait of Madge's parents. Telling my wife she can't keep the picture of her dead parents will go over really well. Right.

_Freaking Peeta Mellark!_ How does he do this. Every. Single. Time?

I study the picture that is now a permanent staple of the Hawthorne household. Not having seen my in-laws in years, I'd almost forgotten what they looked like, though I can't say I really knew what they looked like to begin with. I never got to see them this close. I wasn't exactly invited to Sunday branches at the Undersee mansion.

Mellark's drawn both of the Undersees with slight smiles on their faces, though if he knew his daughter had ended up with the strawberry selling, Seam dwelling poacher, I can't imagine he'd be too happy about it. To be fair, being his son-in-law wasn't high up on my list either. My father-in-law was bald and tall. Luckily, Madge takes after her mom: short, blond, pretty.

"Peeta and Katniss had it framed. Wasn't that nice of them?" Madge asks.

"It weighs a ton," I say, putting it down.

"See," Rory says. "The guy is perfect. How am I going to stand a chance?"

Locating a stud, I position the nail and tap it with the hammer. Hitting it a bit harder, it still doesn't budge.

"Painted it all from memory too, can you believe it?" Madge trills.

Hitting the nail as hard as I can, it finally starts to go in. Raising the hammer, I continue pounding the nail into the wall. It's almost as therapeutic as burying an ax in a tree.

"Well, I can't paint or bake. What should I—Geez, Gale, are you trying to drive a hole through the wall?" Rory barks.

Last time I checked, he wasn't a construction worker. What does he know?

"Yeah, Gale, could you keep it down? I'm starting to get a headache," Madge says.

Stupid nail's in place anyway. And now the picture is too.

Out of nowhere, Rory smacks the table. "I could get her a goat."

Hmm. Not shabby. Even practical. Cheese. Milk. Eventually, meat.

Madge wrinkles her nose and tries to smile. "Ok, that's an…idea. What else?"

"You could always write poetry," I say, trying to keep a straight face.

"I already have. Kind of…" Rory says. "It's not very good."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Rory, you don't have to copy what Peeta does. He does things that work for him and that he knows Katniss likes. Katniss and Prim are two very different people, and so are you and Peeta. And that's not a bad thing."

By the shrug of his shoulders, I can tell he doesn't believe her.

"I hate Peeta Mellark," he mumbles. You and me both, brother.

Next thing I know, Madge is standing up and wrapping her arms around Rory. "It's going to be fine. Just be yourself, and be honest and you'll do fine."

Rory's blushing. Probably because this is the closest he's been to a pretty girl in his life. "Thanks, Madge. I should uh, probably go home. It's starting to get dark out."

"No problem. And here, take some cookies with you."

Cookies in hand, Rory waves at me over his shoulder as he heads out the door. "Later, Gale."

"Good luck with Prim."

As soon as he's gone, Madge comes over and stands next to me, staring at the picture. "It looks just like them, doesn't it?"

I don't really know, but I'll go with that. I nod, glancing over at her. Madge's eyes look a bit shiny, and she's chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Hey." I hold out my hand to her and she falls into my chest, hiding her face in my shirt.

After a few minutes, she looks up at me. "Thanks for putting this up for me."

"Well, I did promise." I decide not to point out that the promise was extracted from me under extreme duress. If she had wanted, I would have promised to go to work in a dress.

Madge wraps her arms around my waist, and squeezes me a bit painfully. "Yeah, right before we _swept_ the floors."

I laugh, burying my nose in her hair. "Technically, we did."

Madge pinches me. "That was not funny."

"Sure it was." Moving her hair to the side, I kiss her on the shoulder. Perhaps now would be the time to take up my mom's suggestion of giving her a backrub. Or better yet, helping her with her chores?

"How would you feel about us sweeping the closet floors again?"

Madge groans and pulls away from me, patting me on the cheek. "And you were doing so well."

She tries to walk away, but I don't let go. My stubbornness, while not always appreciated, is one of my best qualities. "Madge…"

"You really want to help me sweep the floors?"

See what I mean? It pays to be stubborn.

"More than anything."

Madge stands up on her tiptoes, and I incline my head when she curls her finger towards me. This is going to be good.

"Then you won't mind sweeping up the drywall mess you just made in the hallway?"

Uh…

She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, love. The broom and pan are in the hallway closet."

By the time my brain catches up with what just happens, she's already disappeared.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A thank you for my muse/editor/life guru Medea Smyke. She helped me move things about and wrangle this chapter into something manageable. Also gave me inspiration for certain future scenes. I hope you all like it!

* * *

**Peeta Mellark Ruined My Life**

or

**Strawberry Fields For-never**

or

**Everybody Hates Gale**

* * *

It's just after dawn when I set out to work. Since Madge and I live on the edge of the settlement, it's only a couple miles out. I've arrive early at an area of trees that needs to be cleared for some new houses. Generally we have machines that do this, but I find taking the trees down by hand is much more satisfying than mowing them down.

_Thunk_

The ax head is buried almost to the hilt. I have to brace my foot against the tree to get enough leverage to pull it out.

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

The repetition makes it easier for my mind to drift, and of course it settles on Madge and my dilemma, which in the light of day seems to have gotten worse. Yesterday I read that she's loved me since she was twelve years old. I didn't even notice her until much later, and not even as anything special. When she finally stopped looking like a little girl, she was pretty, but I wouldn't admit it because she was from the town. The blond hair and blue eyes immediately marked her off as someone who wasn't worthy of my notice. Just another rich mouth that profited from my labor, which came at the risk of my own life.

It wasn't until years later that I had my first positive interaction with her. After Katniss made it clear that she was unavailable, I joined the rebellion. It was something I always intended to do, but I had held off till things with her and my family had been settled. Went away for training for a few months. Served in the field for a few more before I was sent back to Thirteen.

I was exiting the office of my commanding officer after a debriefing, when I came across a short, very feminine form in a regulation oxford shirt, knee-length skirt, and heels. She was topped by a cloud of daffodil yellow hair. Very nice, but her back was to me, so I turned away and headed to the elevators in the opposite direction—just because she looked good from behind didn't mean I'd equally enjoy her front. Besides, Mockingjay employees aren't supposed to fraternize. Then there was a flutter of papers crashing to the floor and an equally loud sigh.

I turned back and watched long, pale fingers pull at blond hair in frustration. When she started to bend over to pick up the files, curiosity overrode good sense so I went over to help.

When she noticed me kneeling beside her, she didn't even look up before waving me away with a hand. "It's alright. I got it."

Her hair obscured some of her face and she still wouldn't look at me, but her profile seemed decent enough. So I stayed.

"Let me help you," I said, gathering a few of the papers around me. "I don't mind."

"Well, I do. You'll probably just put them all in the wrong order, and they need these for their meetings tomorrow. It's going to take forever to…" she kept babbling, almost as if she was talking to herself and I had disappeared.

We happened to reach for the same file, which she only noticed because I was tugging it from her. "I don't know who you are, but I got--"

And that's when she finally looked at me. She blinked and let go of the file, which due to the way she was balanced made her fall on her rear.

She looked gorgeous, whoever she was. Big, bright blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. Light freckles across her nose. Pink cheeks and lips.

"Gale Hawthorne?"

And then it clicked. "Madge…" I temporarily forgot her last name, "Madge?"

She nodded her head enthusiastically, smiling the biggest smile I'd ever seen on her face.

"I can't believe…I mean, Katniss told me you'd escaped, but…Wow, I never thought we'd run into each other like this," she said.

"I know…You look beautiful."

Her mouth parted and she looked like she was in shock. I know I was. I had never intended for that to come out of my mouth. After all, she was Madge the Mayor's daughter, and to her, I was just some guy from the Seam. Before she could laugh at me, I tried to fix my mistake, "I meant tired."

Madge's mouth snapped shut, and I felt my stomach sink. She scrambled to her knees, furiously picking up the remaining papers. "That's to be expected when you work two jobs," she said, flatly.

I handed over the files I'd picked up. Our hands accidentally touched, and she'd pulled them back like I had coal dust all over my fingers.

"It was good seeing you, Mr. Hawthorne," she said icily, then began to stand up.

That hadn't gone very well, and I had the sinking feeling it was my fault. "Madge, wait," I said, grabbing her hand. "I…uh, I didn't mean that."

Madge looked down the hall, as if she'd rather be anywhere but near me. "I'm very busy with…um, very important things to do. So if you'll excuse me."

She started walking away, but I wouldn't let go of her hand. "I don't understand why you are being so sensitive about this."

Madge still wouldn't look at me, and from the gleam in her eyes, I could see why. "Are you crying? Just because I said you looked tired?"

She sniffled and straightened her files. "No, Gale. This has nothing to do with you, so just drop it, alright?"

She was lying, but making her feel better meant letting her know what I really thought. My hand clenched at my side. It's not often that I admit mistakes and actually try to be nice. "I didn't want you laughing at me, so I took it back," I confessed.

Her eyes darted up to my face, but when she saw me looking at her, she started fiddling with her files. "I wouldn't have laughed…and uh, actually, I think--"

Out of nowhere, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. "This fellow harassing you, Madge?"

Biting my tongue, I turned around to find Haymitch Abernathy scowling at me.

"No, he's—"

"Are you sure?" Haymitch interrupted Madge, coming to stand between us as if he was her father and she needed protection from me. "This one's always been trouble. Just say the word, and he's gone."

Madge rolled her eyes. "Really, Haymitch, we were just talking."

"Well, take your fraternizing somewhere else. I can't handle his poor attempts at flirting this early in the morning."

I remember being offended. Who wouldn't be in this situation? And while I had no idea I was flirting with Madge, I didn't appreciate my attempts at whatever it was I thought I was doing ridiculed by the district drunkard. Certainly not in front of the girl I was unknowingly trying to impress. He may have had ties to Katniss and Mellark, but as far as I was concerned, he had no business interfering with my conversation with Madge.

"For your infor—"

A small warm hand gripped my upper arm. "Gale, come on, I'll show you out."

I was about to protest that I could find the way myself before I proceeded to give Haymitch a piece of my mind, but then I wisened up. What was so great about standing up to Haymitch when I could continue speaking alone with Madge Undersee? Silently, I let her lead me toward the elevator.

A few feet down the hall, I gestured back with my thumb to the hole Haymitch had crawled back in to. "What's his problem? It's like he thinks he's your dad or something."

"Oh that. Well…that's just how he is, although…" her voice trailed off. If she hadn't wanted me to know, she shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Spill it."

Madge smiled up at me, pushing her hair behind her ear. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

I didn't know what she meant by that, but I smiled back. "Nope."

"Anyway, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but he's trying to convince Effie to date him. Except she won't say yes until he gives up alcohol. And Haymitch really misses his alcohol."

I stopped in the hall and Madge looked back at me, her eyebrows knit in confusion. "Wait!" I laughed so loud it echoed down the hall. "Haymitch likes Effie Trinket? The District 12 escort?"

"Effie is actually really nice," Madge said.

"Yeah, for someone who gleefully sent two kids from Twelve to their deaths every year, I'm sure she's a real pearl."

"She's different now. You'd hardly recognize her if you saw her."

"Oh, I think I could. After all, how many people down here wear rainbow wigs and four-inch high heels? She does live in Thirteen, right? I can't really picture her down here without trying to redecorate the place."

Madge shook her head, though she couldn't hide her smile. "Yes, she lives here, and as far as I know, the only thing she's redecorated is her room and Haymitch's office."

I was laughing so hard, I snorted.

"And Effie doesn't look like that anymore. At all. I can't even remember the last time I've seen her with a wig on." Madge hit me lightly with a file. "And stop laughing. I think it's cute."

"That's the last word I'd use to describe either of them."

Madge shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's about time something good happened to Haymitch."

"Since when do you care about Haymitch?"

"I don't know. I guess because he's from home I have a vested interest in him."

"Do you have this same interest in everyone from twelve?" Alright, maybe I had been flirting with her, even back then.

She looked at my oddly, then stared forward as we kept walking. "Depends on the person. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Haymitch certainly seems to be invested in you. Why's that?"

"He knew my aunt awhile back. I think he's taken it upon himself to look after me, since…" Madge looked to the side and that was when I realized why she had to work two jobs.

"I'm sorry about your parents," I said, though the words were inadequate.

She raised her shoulders and lets them fall back down. "Yeah. Me too."

The conversation had turned depressing, so I tried to change the subject. "I didn't know you had an aunt."

"I never knew her. She died a long time ago." Madge suddenly stopped; we'd reached the elevators. "And on that happy note, we're here." Neither of us moved to push the button.

Madge stuck out here hand, and I took it. "It's been…good seeing you again, Gale Hawthorne."

"You too, Madge Undersee."

"Glad you finally remembered my last name."

I ran my free hand through my hair and ignored the heat I felt crawling over my cheeks. "I knew it would come back to me eventually."

"Sure you did."

We stood there staring at each other for a few more seconds when Madge removed her hand from mine and looked over her shoulder. "I should prob—"

"Listen, do you want to hang out tonight? Catch up some more with each other?"

"I can't," she said with a sigh.

So much for that. My disappointment was pretty strong, which I remember surprised me. After all, I hadn't spoken with Madge in nearly a year, and now suddenly the idea of not talking to her again bothered me? Looking back now it's obvious why I was so upset, but rather than trying to do whatever it took to spend more time with her, I punched the down button. Probably a bit harder than was necessary.

Thankfully, Madge spoke up.

"But I don't have to work tomorrow night. We could hang out then," she quickly said. "If you aren't busy and you know, still want to."

I turned to find her frowning at herself.

"I'd like that," I said.

"I live on Level Nine. Room 1047. Is six o'clock too early?"

"Not at all. I'll see you then."

So we hung out. Drinks turned to dinner, which went on for hours until the restaurant finally kicked us out. I (slowly) walked her home. Almost kissed her, but chickened out at the last second. But I did manage to arrange to see her in a few days' time.

As I walked back to my quarters, I decided that there would be no more of this catching up idiocy. True, I did care about her past, but I was more concerned about her future and making sure she spent it with me. Of course, I wasn't thinking of marriage then—that wasn't until the third date—but I knew I wanted to be with her. Things were just so comfortable and easy. I didn't have to second guess everything or fight for her attention. She might not have known it, but it was clear she was interested in me, and the more I learned about her, the more I liked and admired her. (And this was long before she ever told me about her clandestine newspaper snatching and morphling delivery.) I didn't expect to feel so understood by another girl, especially after the disaster with Katniss, but Madge got me. For the first time, I felt sorry for dismissing her back when we were younger. Not just because I was being a snob, but because I had missed out on years of her friendship and probably more.

I'd like to say that was that, but it wasn't quite so simple. After that night, I didn't see her again till six months later. I got called back to the front lines on short notice. Such short notice that I never got to say goodbye to Madge. Or cancel our plans.

Things were too busy to write at first, and by the time everything calmed down, I'd sit down with pen and paper, but nothing would come out. I kept putting it off until finally, I decided it was better to wait until I could explain myself in person. After all, she wasn't my girlfriend yet, and it seemed presumptuous to write her when I could count our friendly interactions on one finger. Of course, had I known about Cole Phillips and Quintus McFarlane, I might have tried a bit harder, presumptuousness be damned.

"Careful there, Hawthorne, or you might not be able to get the axe back out."

I look up to find my foreman, Lawrence "Larry" Smitts, smirking at me. He's only five years older than me and thinks that means he's wise enough to comment and offer advice on my problems. Larry hails from District Seven. Brown hair, brown eyes, tall, and nosy. But other than that, I suppose he's alright.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

I stand up and try to dislodge the axe head from the tree. It doesn't budge. "No."

"Told you you shouldn't have gotten married. Women are nothing but trouble."

Right. "Then how come you can't seem to stay away from them?" Even in Thirteen Above, where the single women are scarce, he manages to find and harass them.

"It's part of their curse. Or part of my charm, haven't figured out which yet."

Wiping the sweat from my brow with my sleeve, I take a step back from the tree, catching my breath. "Well, when you figure it out, be sure to let me know."

"No need for sarcasm, kiddo," Larry says, with a healthy swat to my back. "You had your chance at freedom. Don't begrudge the rest of us."

Kiddo?

"Anyway, just wanted to let you know Karl will be heading this way to mow down the trees in about five minutes. I've kind of gotten attached to you, so I'd hate for you to end up in the wood chipper."

"Thanks for the heads up."

When Larry leaves, I try moving the axe head again. It begins to loosen. With one swift jerk, I finally yank it out and watch as my blade flings off under some plants about ten feet away. Unbelievable.

Running over to the general area, I get down on my hands and knees and search for the head of my axe. I find it under some leafy shrubs.

Huh? Dark green leaves in groups of three. Five-petaled white flowers. It's familiar, but I've yet to place it. And then it hits me. This is it! My romantic and insanely thoughtful gesture that puts to shame anything Mellark, Cole, or Quintus have ever done. I couldn't have found anything more perfect to stumble across if I'd tried.

The only problem is that the plants happen to be in an area Karl will be mowing down. Using my axe head, I carefully dig around my gift and uproot it. Taking it in hand, I walk back to our base of operations, hoping no one will see me carrying around the plants.

I should have known it was too much to ask for. There's a group of three guys, Larry included, who all give me funny looks as I approach.

"What's with the dirt plants?" one of them, a real dim bulb named Earl, says.

"None of your business."

"Hey, aren't those strawberry plants?" a younger guy named Carson asks.

"Heh. Gale's got a sweet tooth," Earl deduces.

"It's not for me, idiot. It's--" I shut up immediately, realizing that the true answer is much worse than them believing I got the plant for myself.

"I stand corrected," Earl guffaws. "Gale's got a sweet heart."

Larry walks over and smacks me on the back. Again. "I suppose I can let you run back to the missus so she can have her fresh fruit."

Between the three of them, they manage to create a chorus of laughter, whistles, and sounds of whips cracking. As someone who's actually been whipped to within an inch of his life, you can imagine how amusing I find all this.

After about a minute of enduring their ribbing, Larry steps in. "Alright, boys, lay off. He's just showing his little lady--"

And then Larry cracks up. "A fruit plant," he chuckles, wiping his eyes. "Never saw that before."

"Why didn't you just pick her some fruit?" Earl asks.

Carson hits him in his ribs with his elbow. "Do you see any strawberries on that plant?"

"Well, no, but…"

"That's because it isn't flowering season yet," Carson continues.

"So what do you plan on doing with that, Hawthorne? Walking it back home?" Larry asks.

"That was the idea," I mumble. Suddenly I'm beginning to doubt my gift. But then I take a good look at the guys making fun of me. Losers, every last one of them. I can't even remember the last time any of them went on a date, and I've been working with them for over a year.

So keep on laughing, knuckleheads. At least I go home to a warm bed every night.

And when I point this out, it shuts them right up.

I wait until my shift is over before heading home. The plants won't fit in my hands, so I untuck my flannel and use the front of my shirt to carry them. The people I meet on my way stare at me, but I just glare right back at them. This isn't for them and they should mind their own business.

There's no way I can plant these without Madge seeing, so I leave the plants in the shed in our backyard. The actual planting will have to wait till after she's asleep. I already have the perfect place picked out, just outside the door that leads to the back yard. There's a patch of soil where Madge has been trying her hand at some simple gardening. The strawberries will fit right in.

I'm whistling as I walk through the door. A few seconds later, Madge pops out of the kitchen. The smile on her face instantly turns into a frown. "What happened to your shirt?" she says in a strangled voice.

I look down. There are streaks of dirt all over the front of my shirt and hands. Probably my face too. But I'm in too good of a mood for a little filth to get me down. "It's not that bad."

Madge sighs. "Gale, how am I going to get that out?"

"I thought you liked that I was rugged."

"Rugged, yes. Filthy, no."

Eh. "Just give it to my mom."

"I can't do that," Madge says, aghast.

"Why not? It's what she does for a living."

"But you're my responsibility. I should be able to take care of you."

"Is that so, Mrs. Hawthorne?" I ask, stalking towards her. She's in my arms and about four feet off the ground before she can blink. "Last I checked I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you."

Her nose is wrinkled, and she weakly pounds against my shoulders, poorly pretending she isn't enjoying this as much as me. "That's beside the point. What kind of wife would I be if I can't even wash your shirts properly?"

"I didn't marry you for your skills in laundering." Otherwise, I'd still be single.

"Thanks," she says sarcastically as she tries to wriggle out of my grasp.

Pressing my lips to her ear, she stops moving. Now that I have her full and undivided attention, I describe her other winning qualities. Her skin flushes a rosy pink.

"Well, those aren't exactly accomplishments I can brag about to my mother-in-law," she says, voice slightly hoarse.

"Hogwash. She'll be thrilled to hear you excel at sweeping closet floors."

"Ugh! That joke is still not funny. Now put me down or I'll pinch you."

Idle threats, but I set her down anyway.

"Give me your shirt. I need to soak it before the stains permanently set in."

I comply, foregoing the buttons by simply pulling the flannel and my undershirt over my head.

"Better?" I ask, holding my clothes up in my right hand.

Madge looks me over and smiles. "Show off. Now hand them over."

Closing the inches between us, I stop just shy of touching her. This close, I can feel her exhale against my chest. "Here you go," I say, dangling the clothes high enough so she has to reach up on her tiptoes with her hands outstretched to get them.

Once she's collected my shirts, her arms wrap around the back of my neck. Tugging me down, she presses her mouth to mine, slowly moving her tongue over my lower lip before pulling away. "Now go shower. You stink," she says and runs away, laughing.

"Tease," I shout out after her.

The rest of the day is just as blissful. Now that I no longer have the weight of Madge's romantic expectations choking me, I can finally relax. And anticipate the look of awe on her face when I reveal my gift.

It takes all my self-control not to slip her some sleep syrup. After her breathing is deep and even, I wait another fifteen minutes just to make sure she's really out. Then I slip out of bed.

Opening the yard door, I stand on the stoop and inhale sharply through my teeth. There's no snow on the ground, but the air is chilly. It's a new moon, so the only lights out are the stars. They shine just enough for me to see the outline of the shed from where I'm standing.

Pulling on a pair of boots, I make my way over. Even though I'm as quiet as I can possibly be, the door's hinges squeak when I open them. Grabbing the pot and shovel, I lug them over towards the house.

Because of the dark, I don't see the tree root until it's too late.

I curse as I almost fall to the ground. Luckily the clay pot doesn't break, but I drop the shovel. It makes a dull thud against the old wood, and I immediately look over at the house. Thankfully, no lights come on. Picking the shovel back up, I make it over to Madge's fledgling garden and find an open patch. The soil is soft, and the strawberry plants don't need to go in that deeply. I'm finished in under five minutes. Taking a step back, I admire my work. Not too shabby.

After I've returned the pot and shovel to the shed and removed my boots, I head back into the house. Using the kitchen sink, I scrub down my hands and arms and splash my face with some water. My shirt's dirty too, so when I get back into the room I toss it in the hamper.

Carefully, I get back under the sheet, trying not to jostle the bed too much. It doesn't work. Madge peers through bleary eyes then scoots toward me, occupying her usual place against my side. "Where'd you go?" she says through a yawn.

"Heard a noise. Raccoons." Her eyes are closed now, so she can't see me smile.

"I heard something too, but it didn't sound like raccoons."

"Since when do you know what kind of sounds a raccoon makes?" I ask.

Madge yawns again. "Your legs are cold," she says, but doesn't move away.

"Sorry," I mumble, pulling her closer towards me. Not even a minute later, she's out again. But I stay awake for at least another hour, unable to sleep because of my excitement.

I wake up with the first rays of sunlight. It's Saturday, so I have no place to be. Usually I sleep in for a bit on the weekends, but I know there's no way I'll be able to fall back asleep. Not today.

As I sit up, gently untangling myself from Madge, she groans and covers her eyes with her arm. "Is it morning already?"

Leaning over, I kiss her deeply.

"What was that for?" she asks, blinking up at me when I'm through.

I shrug. "Because you're my wife and I can?"

Whistling a tune I've heard the mockingjays call out to each other while I work, I crawl out of bed.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she grumbles.

"No reason."

I expect her to get out of bed too, but she merely rolls over and pulls the blankets over her head.

"I'll go put the coffee on," I say, tugging on a shirt as I leave the room.

As the coffee percolates, I walk over to the living room window. From here I can see the tiny green shrubs I planted last night. Now all that's left is for Madge to wake up.

Almost two hours later, she emerges from her cave, wrapped up in a bathrobe and with hair slightly matted.

Restless and impatient, I walk over to the backdoor and fling it open. It's cold, but I ignore that as I stretch and say, "Nice day outside."

Madge calls from somewhere in the kitchen. "Gale, shut the door. It's freezing."

When she comes out of the kitchen with her mug of coffee, I'm still standing there. She shuffles beside me and looks over our backyard—it's a fairly large lot of wild grass, shrubs, trees, and a small garden that now includes strawberry plants. "You're nuts. It must be forty-five degrees out," she says, then sips from her mug. "I'm going to go make breakfast."

"Wait." I take her hand before she can leave.

She looks up at me, slightly irritated. "Yes?"

I didn't want to have to do this, but since she's probably still half asleep, I'll have to help her out. "You don't notice anything different?"

Her eyes narrow as she pours over my face. "You trimmed your beard?"

The exasperated sigh escapes my mouth before I can stop it. "Not me. The backyard."

She glances at the yard for less than a second, then shakes her head. "No."

I point down towards our feet, at the garden right under her nose.

"Um…what is it?"

I feel my eyebrows shoot up, but then quickly remind myself that Madge is a merchant girl. Her interactions with wildlife are pretty much limited to when she's with me. Heh.

"They're strawberry plants."

The skin between her eyebrows contracts, and she stares at the green leaves in confusion. "Are you sure?"

I laugh. "The fruit won't actually show up until about June."

"Oh. Well…thank you."

She sounds about as excited as if I'd given her a dead squirrel, which would have been much easier to get. Considering all the hassle I went through to get that plant here and buried, I was hoping for a bit more excitement. Like jumping in my arms and kissing my face off. Biting back my disappointment, I mumble, "Don't mention it," then shuffle off to the kitchen to lick my wounds.

I hear her close the door and pad back into the kitchen, but I'm too upset to look at her. I decide that now would be a good time for some solitude. Quickly gathering some food to snack on, I let Madge know, "I'll be back later tonight. Thinking about shooting some stuff in the woods." Or maybe Peeta Mellark, since it's his fault I'm in this mess to begin with.

I move to leave the kitchen, but Madge blocks the doorway, her eyes brimming with concern. I hate it when she looks at me like that, because it usually ends up with me spilling my guts to her, and right now I'm not ready for it.

"Gale, are you alright?"

"Fine. Never been better, actually."

She's tugging on my sleeve, forcing me to look at her. "No, you're not…Is this because I didn't know it was a strawberry plant?"

Flabbergasted, I throw my hands up in the air. "I thought you liked strawberries!"

Madge takes a step back and blinks. "I do," she says as I start to pace the kitchen floor.

"Well, I'd hardly know from your reaction just now."

She tries to speak, but I'm not in the mood to listen, so I continue ranting. "That's all you'd ever buy, but when I actually go and get you some, you...This is why I never do anything thoughtful."

I stop pacing the floor, already regretting what I've said. I'm alright with feeling stupid so long as no one else knows I feel that way. My face is probably red, and it's all I can do to look her in the face.

"Gale, I'm sorry for upsetting you."

"It's fine. I should be going, it's getting late." I pass by her, leaving the kitchen for our bedroom. I came in here to change, but I sit down on the bed instead.

A few seconds later, Madge walks through the door, worriedly chewing her lower lip.

I try to ignore her, but that becomes impossible when she comes to stand between my legs, taking my hands in hers. "Why did you bring me strawberry plants?" she asks.

"You know why," I say gruffly.

"Gale," she pleads, squeezing my hands.

I grimace. This kind of conversation isn't for me. I show things through actions, not mushy words. That was the whole point of what I did, so I wouldn't have to say anything.

"Tell me. Please."

Ah, hell.

"I don't know. You didn't think I appreciated you, and I wanted to show you that I did. Strawberries just made sense to me, since they're your favorites…and because it's how we met. And they're sweet," I cough, "like you." I scuff my toe into the floor. "It was a stupid idea."

The room is deathly silent, and I force myself to look at Madge. Her eyes are sparkling. "I don't think it was stupid at all. In fact, that's the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me."

Yeah, right. "More thoughtful than Cole giving you the music to your favorite song?"

Madge pulls away slightly, dropping my hands. "How did you know about that?"

"I, uh, went through your chest the other day, trying to get ideas for what to give you, and it was just there."

I flinch, thinking she's going to get upset about me going through her stuff, but she just looks a bit weepy.

"It's not even my favorite song. He just thought it was."

I don't even get to process that welcome revelation, because she's back to questioning me.

"You really thought this through, didn't you?" she asks.

I shrug my shoulders.

"And that was why your shirt was so dirty yesterday? And why your legs were cold last night, because you were planting the strawberries?"

I nervously run my hand through my hair. "Yeah."

"Is this why you've been so stressed lately?" she asks, her voice hardly above a whisper. "And why you were so happy this morning?"

I inspect the carpet rather than attempt an answer.

"Hey." Madge places a hand on my chest, spreading her fingers over my heart. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She leans down, so she can stare straight into my eyes. "And I love your gift."

"Even though I don't write you poems?"

"Why would I want poems?"

Now I'm confused. "But I thought after that dinner we had with Katniss and Peeta, you were upset with me because I never did anything to show I appreciated you."

Madge purses her lips, looking guilty again. "Honestly, I was a little upset, but that was stupid of me. I know you love me, and you have never given me any reason to question that. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel inadequate in any way, especially since you're the best husband any woman could hope to have."

"You don't have to say that."

Madge places a finger over my mouth, effectively silencing me.

"You want to know why I like strawberries so much?" Without waiting for my answer, she continues, "It's because you were the one who brought them."

My insides feel funny, and I struggle against smiling.

"Don't get me wrong," she continues, "I love strawberries, but that's not why I'd spend almost all of my allowance every week on them. You, on the other hand…"

I manage a lop-sided grin, though I doubt she even sees it, because she starts kissing me. My forehead, my nose, my eyebrows, just below my ear. "And I love that you've been thinking of me, and that you went through all that effort to show me that you care."

Now I'm blushing again. "Madge, I'm all better now, really." Great, my voice is cracking too. Clearing my throat, I try again. "You don't have to say anything else."

Madge's lips hover over my own. "Good, because I wasn't planning to."

* * *

A/N: There might be an epilogue. =D Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Hope you all enjoy. =D

* * *

**Peeta Mellark Ruined My Life**:

**Epilogue**

* * *

Hmm. Something smells good.

Following my nose into the kitchen, I find Madge busily preparing for another dinner with the Mellarks. Mindlessly turning over chicken fillets in flour. Completely defenseless.

When I wrap my arms around her, she jumps, sprinkling us with flour. While it's about as enjoyable as it sounds, I much prefer this white covering to the black soot that seemed to form a permanent layer on my skin during my time in District Twelve's mines.

"Gale!" she yells, startled. Turning around and hitting me ineffectually with her fists, she laughs and covers me with more flour. "You scared me!"

"I know." I grin down at the future mother of my children, who proceeds to swipe at my nose with a flour-covered finger. Then, with all the dignity of a powdered donut, Madge turns her attention back to the chicken, driving home her outrage at my behavior with a loud "Hmph."

I ignore it and bury my nose in her neck, using my fingers to make sure my access is unencumbered by hair and clothes.

"Smells good. Like angel food cake," I murmur.

"Probably because I'm baking one in the oven."

She attempts to prepare more of the fillets, but she's not very successful because I don't let go. She tries batting my hands away, but I'm too quick for her.

"You know what goes with angel food cake?" I ask against the shell of her ear.

I hear Madge swallow, and she croaks out, "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Strawberries."

Madge finally stops struggling and braces herself against the kitchen counter. "The gift that keeps on giving."

Speaking of gifts that keep on giving, my fingers find their way to the hem of her shirt, darting just under the material to trace circles on her stomach. "There's more where that came from."

Madge giggles, squirming a little, but not moving away from me. "You keep doing that," she says.

"What?"

"Touching my stomach. Why?"

Huh? I hadn't really noticed, though now that she mentions it, I'm not surprised. In the two months that have passed since I saw those baby clothes in the closet I often catch myself thinking about what our kids will look like. Black hair and blue eyes? Maybe blond hair with gray eyes. A small army of Hawthornes that will pick on Mellark's brats. If he's even capable of having any.

"What do you think about us having a baby?" I ask.

Madge turns around with a smile on her face, which all too soon turns into a frown. "Gale, Katniss and Peeta are going to be here in less than an hour. The food isn't ready, I'm covered in flour, I still haven't changed, and-"

I chuckle, probably finding the frazzled hand-wringing of my wife more amusing than I should. "I didn't mean now."

Madge blinks. "Oh." Her forehead is creased, indicating that her mind is preoccupied with other things. Like, "You don't think we're too young?"

"Why would I? My parents already had me by this age." I think.

"You've never really mentioned it before."

"Not true. I asked you about it that one day, in the closet."

Madge purses her lips, trying to recall that time. I can tell the instant she remembers it, because her cheeks are suddenly stained pink. "What's brought this on so suddenly?"

"I saw the baby clothes in the chest."

"Gale, those clothes-" and then she stops and gasps. "What all did you see in there? Besides the music from Cole?"

I shrug, trying to dim the smile threatening to overtake my face. "Maybe a letter." That day I had vowed to return and read the note she'd written for me. And I had. Quite a few times.

My answer earns me a few more hits with flour-covered fists. "I can't believe you!"

"Any plans on finally giving it to me?"

"Gale, I-I-I..." she splutters.

"Yes?"

She scowls, then turns around and throws the chicken fillets down on a baking sheet. Stomping around and slamming drawers open and shut, she pulls out the oven mitts, retrieves the cake and exchanges it for the chicken. After she's washed her hands and her her outburst has subsided a little, I pick her up and carry her to our bedroom. I don't like her around scalding pots and pans when she's angry with me. Plus, she needs to change.

She's as still as a stone in my arms. "No need to be embarrassed," I say.

"I'm not speaking to you."

"It's a nice letter. Very well written. Best letter I've ever read." This seems to placate her. Somewhat.

"For the record, those clothes aren't for me. They're for Katniss," she says.

Good thing I'm near the bed because I mishandle Madge, fumbling her inelegantly onto the mattress.

"What?"

"Katniss is pregnant. I wasn't supposed to tell you, since they were waiting for the first trimester to be over before announcing it to everyone. They were going to tell you tonight."

How is that Mellark steals every single one of my ideas? It's like he purposefully sets out to best me at everything. I can picture him, bumbling around his bakery, cooking up plans to ruin my life. Be an incredibly romantic goober, so Gale looks like an insensitive boor in comparison. Check. Get married and settle down before Gale does, even though he was engaged before I was. Check. Impregnate Katniss so I can have bragging rights about being a father first. Check.

I'm startled out of my thoughts by Madge's laughter. "You look like you just got sprayed by a skunk."

I might as well have been, but I try to contort my face into a look of apathy. It must not work, because Madge is laughing harder. "I don't understand why you insist on making everything a competition with Peeta. It's not as if you both can't become fathers."

That's not the point! I wanted to do it first.

I hear Madge sigh as she pushes herself off the bed. She wraps her arms around my waist and stares up at me, eyes shining with laughter. "Not that I should be encouraging this, but if it makes you feel any better, there's a possibility we might have twins."

"Really?" I say, intrigued.

"Yeah, my mom was a twin. It's supposed to skip a generation, so maybe if we're lucky we'll have twins too."

And just like that, I forget all about Mellark. It's ridiculous, really, though I'll never admit that to anyone. Who cares what he does? Madge just agreed to having a child, possibly twins, with me.

"So we're going to do this? Start a family?" I ask, just to verify.

Madge nods her head. Rising on her tiptoes, she wraps her arms around the back of my neck, pulling me down to press her lips softly to mine. At least it starts off that way. I think by now it's obvious I'm not the most patient of people.

"Gale...Gale," she says, the urgency growing in her voice each time she says my name. "They're going to be here any minute. We can't."

"Katniss and Peeta will just have to take a raincheck."

Madge pushes me away, but just barely. "Go change. You're covered in flour handprints."

Her mouth is set stubbornly. No attempt of mine will sway her. Dutifully, though resentfully, I comply. And like the good boy that I am I leave the room so Madge can change in peace.

"Gale," she calls from the bedroom, "Can you take the chicken out of the oven and turn it off?"

"Yeah," I answer, going into kitchen. I've just pulled out the food when I hear a heavy tread outside the front door, announcing that Mellark and Katniss have arrived. Well, that or a herd of goats. It's hard to tell the difference.

The doorbell rings and Madge rushes in, putting on some earrings. "Gale, please be nice to Peeta. Remember, this isn't a competition."

"When am I not nice?" I ask.

Her answer is nothing more than one raised eyebrow. "Be good," she says, then flings the door open. "Hi!"

Madge hugs Katniss as soon as they cross the threshold. Mellark lifts his chin in greeting. "Hey."

"Hey."

We stand there, waiting for our wives to break their embrace. When Katniss and Madge disengage from their hug, Madge gestures toward the kitchen table. "Have a seat," she says. All the plates and silverware are set out, courtesy of me. I had taken some of my mom's earlier suggestions under advisement. Turns out, Madge actually did want help around the house.

Dinner is a slightly nauseating affair. The food is great, but I can't enjoy it as much as I should. Three guesses as to why.

They say that when a woman is pregnant, she's supposed to glow, but it's actually Mellark that is beaming like a ray of sunshine. A ray of sunshine that is constantly worried about Katniss. For a guy who has survived two Hunger Games, torture from the Capitol, and courtship with Katniss, you'd expect him to be a tough guy, not an oversensitive sap. I think if he could he would chew up Katniss's food and feed it to her. Like a mother bird. When Madge is pregnant, I just hope that I retain some measure of my manliness. How does Katniss stand it? She might roll her eyes once or twice, but you can tell she really isn't all that bothered by it.

Somehow, I make it through dinner. They still haven't made their announcement, and it's time for dessert. I stand up and help Madge serve the angel food cake topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

After the plates have been doled out, we dig in.

"This is delicious, Madge," Peeta says, as Katniss and I echo the sentiment.

"I'm glad you like it." She catches my eye, then says, "Though you'll have to thank Gale for the strawberries. He got me some plants for the backyard."

I clear my throat, finding it suddenly difficult to swallow my food. "It was nothing."

Madge leans against me, tucking her hand in my elbow. "He even planted them in the middle of the night, so he could surprise me when I woke up."

The surprise in Peeta's eyes is plain to see. That's right, Mellark. You're not the only one who can make amazingly thoughtful and romantic gestures.

Katniss sighs, and Peeta looks at her worriedly. "Is something wrong?" he asks.

"No," she answers brusquely. Even if I hadn't known Katniss for years, I would be able to tell she's lying.

Suddenly things are tense. I suppose it's up to me to change the topic of conversation. "So Mellark, written any poetry lately?" I ask. Innocently.

Katniss stabs at her food. "No."

Peeta almost chokes on his dessert, but doesn't say anything. Madge kicks me under the table.  
"If you want, Katniss, you can take some strawberries home with you," she offers politely.

Katniss looks up at Madge, her gray eyes looking unusually glassy. "Thank you. That would be almost as good as having my own strawberry patch in our backyard." And then, she bursts into tears and runs out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Peeta immediately stands to his feet, and his napkin flutters to the floor. He looks as gobsmacked as the rest of us. Then he lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Thanks, Gale. I think you and your strawberries have officially ruined my life."

"No problem," I say, smiling affably, until Madge kicks me under the table. Again. Still, it's not enough to diminish the sense of satisfaction welling deep inside me.

"I'm sure Katniss will be alright, Peeta. She's probably just had a very emotional day," Madge says.

Peeta nods, but doesn't say anything. In my magnanimity, I decide to take pity on him. "I can show you where to find some strawberry plants."

"Uh...sure" he eloquently says. "I should probably, uh..." he motions towards the front door, then hurries after Katniss.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I burst out laughing. Madge just shakes her head and warns, "When Katniss returns to normal, she's going to punish you for doing that."

"It was worth it. Besides, she's got another, what? Five or six months before their baby's born? She'll forget by then." I say, then proceed to thoroughly relish my dessert.

"I don't think so. She still hasn't fully forgiven Haymitch for showing up drunk at her wedding and that was nearly a year ago."

"What I did hardly compares."

"Katniss is cranky on a good day. Factor in her pregnancy, and I'd be worried."

I snort. "That's because you're a worry wart. What's the worst she can do?"

"I don't want to find out...And when she comes after you, I won't defend you. You haven't let one dinner with them pass without mentioning that poem in some way. It's probably why he stopped writing things for her," Madge says, frowning in disapproval.

I just did the entire world a service, and this is the thanks I get.

"You should probably warn Rory about Katniss's new emotional state. I'd hate to lose my brother-in-law."

Ah, yes, Rory, who lucked out and is now dating Prim. Well, he's a big boy. I'll let him learn this on his own.

"And another thing, Gale, when they come back, they'll most likely be telling us about the baby. You _have _to act surprised."

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"I wasn't supposed to tell you, and I don't want to make Katniss cry again."

Come to think of it, neither do I. It's weird seeing her all emotional like that.

"Now promise me you'll act surprised," she says, pulling away my dessert plate just as I was about to spear another piece.

"Yeah, yeah, act surprised. Got it." I look at my dessert expectantly, and Madge pushes the plate towards me.

A few bites in, I begin to ponder. "Do you think you'll be that emotional when you're pregnant."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be worse," Madge laughs. "I'll cry unless you write me poetry."

I grimace, but am rescued from providing a response when the front door opens. Somehow Peeta has managed to bring Katniss back, and she shuffles in, looking sheepish.

"Sorry about that," she mumbles. "I don't know what came over me."

"Don't even mention it," Madge says politely.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to let you know that I'm pregnant."

Act surprised, I hear Madge say somewhere inside my head. I raise my eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "Well, that explains the recent outburst," I say wryly. "Hormones."

Katniss nods while Mellark grins goofily, a twinkle in his suddenly bright blue eyes. I stifle a laugh. He's going to cry.

"And Katniss has twice as many hormones," he says excitedly, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

"Why's that?" Madge asks.

"We're having twins!"

ARGHHHHH!

* * *

**The End

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Also, I would like it to be known that Gale's view of Peeta is not mine. Peeta is my favorite character in the whole series, and I view him as one of the best male Young Adult fiction characters ever created. He is my unicorn and ray of sunshine and piece of cheesecake and every other good thing I can possibly think of, and if he and Katniss don't end up together, I will be so bummed.**  
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